The grid was hinged like a trapdoor but secured by a heavy padlock, which offered little resistance to a couple of silenced gunshots before they dropped its mangled remains back down the shaft. Ben heaved the grid open, tossed his bag with the guns inside up onto the pavement, and pushed his head and shoulders out. The ventilation shaft opened up onto an alley off a narrow tree-lined side street he didn’t recognise. The adjoining main street was just a few yards away. He pulled himself out of the shaft and ran over to it, and realised that by luck they were just a couple of hundred yards from where they’d left the car. He ran back to the shaft and helped Margot Segal clamber out. Roth was the last to emerge.
‘Well, that was fun and games.’
Ben’s jacket wasn’t helping to protect Margot Segal much from the night chill, and she was shivering and looked faint. ‘Wait here,’ he said to Roth, gave him the bag and sprinted for the car. Less than two minutes later he screeched up at the mouth of the alley. They got Margot Segal into the back, and dumped in the bag with the guns.
She murmured, ‘I’ve never been in a police car before.’
Ben thought, And you still haven’t. He jumped back behind the wheel, Roth bundled into the passenger seat and they were away with the heater blowing on maximum.
‘Where to?’ Roth asked.
Ben wanted to take her to a hospital but was worried about all the questions that would be asked, especially when the real police turned up. A hotel was out of the question, because of the same inevitable suspicions when two tough-looking men turned up with an older woman in a nightdress who looked exactly like someone who’d recently been kidnapped and held hostage. The only option he had was to return to his place, and take his chances that it was still safe.
They were there within the hour.
Thierry had not returned. Ben wasn’t expecting to see him again. The guy was a disappointment. Ben carried Margot Segal into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. By then she was alert enough to be talking more as the feelings of relief began to hit home. ‘Is this the protective custody you told me about, Inspector Dardenne?’ she asked.
‘It’s only temporary, until we find something better,’ he assured her. ‘You’ll have everything you need, I promise.’
‘Couldn’t I go back home?’
‘The moment it’s safe, you will. And you can call me Jacques, all right?’
‘Thank you, Jacques,’ she replied softly, and Ben felt like a bastard for deceiving her. As he removed her shoes and went to work cleaning up her feet with cotton pads and antiseptic cream, she described the terrifying moment when the kidnappers had attacked her in her home.
‘At first I was certain they were robbers, or that they were going to rape me or something awful like that. Then they put something over my eyes and I realised they meant to take me away. I’ve never been so frightened in my life. I had no idea where they were taking me. We drove in a car for a long time through the night. Then they made me get out of the car and walk. They had a gun to my back. At least, I assumed it must be a gun. We went into a Métro station. I couldn’t see but I recognised the sounds, the smells. Then they led me into a dark place that I knew must be a tunnel. They made me walk for the longest time through the darkness, shoving me along, pulling me and pushing me this way and that, until my feet were so sore I could hardly go another step. I had no idea where I was any longer, where we were going or what would happen to me when I got there. I kept asking, “Why are you doing this to me?” but they told me to shut up, and eventually they gagged me to make me quiet. Then we came to the place where you found me. They tied me in the chair. I don’t even know how long I was there. It all seems so distant now. Like a terrible dream.’
Ben assured her, ‘If you’d like to see a doctor, I can get one to come and take a look at you.’ As he said it, he was wondering how he could do that. A man of Fred’s connections might know someone. Every city had its under-the-table medics, often vets, who treated crooks for gunshot and stab wounds for cash when regular medical assistance was too risky.
She replied, ‘I don’t need a doctor. I just want to know where my husband is, and what’s happening. Why would those men have targeted me? You said they were terrorists. Then I heard you and Agent Anderson talking about heroin and cocaine, and something about a shipment. I’m not stupid. I understand a lot of English and I do have some idea of how things work. Is Julien mixed up in something bad?’
‘We think that Julien was coerced into doing business with these people,’ Ben said. ‘That’s why it’s important that we talk to him before he gets himself into any worse trouble.’
She looked at Ben with alarm. ‘What kind of trouble? Are they going to kill him?’
‘Not if Agent Anderson and I can help it. But we need to act soon.’
‘What will you do? Will Julien be put in prison?’
‘If Julien helps us to catch the ringleaders,’ Ben said, ‘we can do a plea bargain deal with him that will keep him out of jail.’
Real-life detectives probably didn’t use terms like ‘ringleaders’, but it sounded good and had the right effect on Margot Segal. ‘My husband is a good man,’ she said. ‘We’ve been married for over thirty years. We’ve had our ups and downs but, well, he’s all I have.’
‘We know that, Margot,’ Ben replied. ‘And I truly don’t want anything bad to happen to him. That’s why I need your help to contact him. His office colleagues said he was travelling to some conference overseas. Do you know where he went?’
She looked puzzled at the mention of a conference. ‘He never said anything about that to me. He often travels, but I always know exactly where he is. Except this time. When he got back from his last overseas trip, to Libya, he said he had to go away again for a few days. He was all secretive. He seemed nervous. He never used to act that way but he often does, these days. This time even more so.’
‘Do you have any idea what he was nervous about?’
She shook her head. ‘None. I seldom know what his trips are about as I don’t know anything about archaeology. I asked him if something was wrong, but he just said not to worry, that everything would be fine, and he’d be home again soon. That was two days ago. I was going to call him on his mobile to check that he was all right, but I never got the chance because that’s when those men suddenly turned up and—’ Her eyes filled up with tears.
‘You often call him on his mobile when he’s away on business?’ Ben asked.
‘All the time. I know the number by heart.’
Ben took out his phone. ‘Then call him now.’
Chapter 44
Margot Segal dialled the number and pressed the phone to her ear. ‘What do I tell him?’ she asked Ben, anxiously.
‘Tell him the truth,’ Ben said. ‘I want him to hear your voice and to know that you’re safe. Then I’d like to talk to him.’
She nodded. Waited for her husband to pick up. After a few more rings she whispered to Ben, ‘It’s gone to voicemail.’
‘Leave a message.’
She nodded again. After the prompter bleep she said in a voice hoarse with emotion, ‘Chéri, it’s me. I don’t know where you are, but I wanted to tell you that I’m all right. I’m safe. Please call me back. I so badly want to hear your voice.’
Her words were straight from the heart and touchingly sincere. She ended the call and passed the phone back to Ben. ‘What do we do now?’
‘Now we wait for him to call back.’
‘What if he doesn’t?’
Ben thought, If he doesn’t, it means he’s probably dead already. ‘Let’s just wait and see.’
It was a roll of the dice. The longer it took for Segal to respond, if he ever did, the harder it would be for Ben to keep up the pretence with his wife. He was prepared to give it a few hours, but after that he’d have no choice but to bite the bullet and pass her over to the real cops, for her own safety. And that would throw a spanner in the works of his plan.
But Ben didn’t have to wait
long. They were still sitting in the bedroom when, two minutes after Margot had left her message, the phone rang. The caller ID on the screen was the same number she’d dialled. He handed the phone to her. ‘It’s him.’
She sounded breathless as she answered the call. ‘Julien?’ Then, at the sound of his voice, she burst into tears. ‘Yes, it’s me, Chéri. I’m safe. I’m all right. Inspector Dardenne and his friend from the FBI rescued me … Yes, I’m here with them. In protective custody … Yes, they’re here with me now.’
Ben held out his hand for the phone. She hesitated, then passed it to him. He stood up and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. In the apartment’s small living room Roth was lounging idly on the armchair with his eyes closed.
‘Margot? Margot? Are you there?’ Julien Segal sounded agitated and confused on the other end of the line.
Ben said quietly and calmly, ‘Monsieur Segal, my name is Ben Hope. You don’t know me, but I’d very much like to speak with you. Are you alone? Can we talk?’
After a long beat Segal replied, on the edge of panic, ‘Yes, I’m alone. Are you the police? What’s this about the FBI? Where’s my wife?’
Ben glanced back at the bedroom door and kept his voice low. ‘She’s in good hands, Monsieur Segal. I promise you that. But we’re not the police, which you should be happy about. I only told her that as a way to convince her to call you.’
Segal sounded even more confused and flustered. ‘Then … who the hell are you?’
‘I’m the man who found Romy’s body,’ Ben said. ‘I know who killed her. I know that Nazim al-Kassar has been coercing you to do business with him. We can put a stop to that. Right here. Right now. But I need your help. Where are you?’
Silence on the phone. Ben could almost hear Segal’s brain churning furiously. After another long pause, Segal muttered, ‘I … I’m in Le Havre.’
Ben nodded. It all made sense to him. ‘You’re at the port. Waiting for the shipment to come in. You’ll oversee the unloading of the cargo, then you’ll call Nazim’s people to come and take it away. They’ll put it on a truck, maybe more than one, if my guess is right, and transport it to Paris. But it’s not the last shipment they’ll be bringing in. This doesn’t stop, does it? Because these people own your whole life now.’
Segal’s confusion had morphed into pure fear. He quavered, ‘H-how do you know all this?’
‘Never mind me,’ Ben said. ‘Let’s talk about you. You don’t have to work for Nazim any more. Margot is safe. The men who were holding her are dead. You’re off the hook. But we need to act fast. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’
‘They’ll kill me.’
‘We’re not going to let that happen, Julien. Trust me. We can make all of this disappear.’
‘That’s impossible. I’m in so deep. When the authorities find out what I’ve helped those people do, they’ll send me to prison for thirty years.’
‘Maybe nobody needs to know,’ Ben said. ‘When this is over, maybe you and Margot can just go back to your lives like before.’
‘The cargo ship is expected to arrive sometime around eight-thirty this morning,’ Segal said. ‘Things are in motion that can’t be stopped.’
‘Let’s take this one step at a time,’ Ben said. He looked at his watch. Le Havre was a couple of hundred kilometres from Paris. ‘Give me your location and I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘With Margot?’
‘With Margot,’ Ben replied. ‘And then you need to tell me what this is all about. There are some blanks to fill in.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘I’ll turn her over to the care of the police, and make sure that she tells them everything that I know,’ Ben said. ‘At that point, your life really is over. You won’t be safe anywhere, not even in prison.’
‘You’re not leaving me much choice, are you?’
‘I’m offering you a chance,’ Ben said. ‘The only one you have. You can thank me later. After you’ve hugged and kissed your wife who, in case you’ve forgotten, was a hostage until a couple of hours ago.’
Segal heaved the deepest sigh. ‘No. I’m thanking you now. Whoever the hell you are, I owe you a debt I couldn’t ever repay for taking her away from them. Margot means everything to me. And that evil bastard Nazim knows that. He told me he’d do to her what he did to poor, poor, sweet Romy.’ His voice choked up as he said her name. ‘He’s a monster. I hate him more than I can possibly tell you.’
‘That’s why you’re going to help me finish him, once and for all. Do we have a deal?’
Another pause. Then, ‘Yes. All right. We have a deal.’
Segal gave Ben the address of a hotel near the Port of Le Havre. They agreed to meet in the lobby. Then Segal thanked him again, and the call was over.
Roth hadn’t moved from the armchair, but one eye was open. ‘Are we on?’
Ben said, ‘We’re on. Let’s roll.’
Chapter 45
The 200-kilometre drive took them north and east towards the Normandy coast, almost exactly half the distance back to Le Val. It was motorway all the way, the A13 straightening out the sinuous, meandering path of the Seine River that connected Paris to the major port city of Le Havre.
Ben’s watch was ticking towards 5.20 a.m. by the time he pulled up in the off-street parking at Julien Segal’s hotel on a street named after some dead admiral, close to the sixteenth-century cathedral that was one of the town’s only buildings to have survived the devastation inflicted on it during the 1944 Normandy invasion. But Segal hadn’t chosen the hotel for its scenic view or luxury. It was a basic, no-frills establishment just a stone’s throw from the docks, where he clearly wished to keep a low profile.
Dawn was some time away. A light rain was falling, driven inland by a gusty wind from the Channel. Ben shut off the engine and rolled his head around his shoulders to relieve the tension in his muscles. His eyes were burning and felt dry. He’d driven fast to get here in so short a time. Roth had remained silent the whole way, deep in his own thoughts, whatever those were. Margot Segal was still asleep on the back seat, lying curled up with a travel blanket over her and her head resting on Ben’s bag. It couldn’t have made for a very soft pillow, filled as it was with weaponry and ammunition, but she’d been so washed out by the last two traumatic days and nights that she didn’t seem to care. Ben had given her some spare clothes he’d found in the safehouse, an old pair of jeans that needed to be rolled up at the bottom, a holey T-shirt and a baggy olive-green army pullover that draped over her like a tent.
He gently woke her, telling her they’d arrived. Her eyes blinked blearily open and then filled with excitement at the prospect of being reunited with her husband. The early morning dampness shrouded them with its sea-salty tang as they walked from the car towards the hotel lobby entrance. Roth carried the bag and Ben held onto Margot’s arm because she was still weak and shaky.
As agreed, Julien Segal was waiting for them in the small, dimly-lit lobby. He was alone. Through the glass doors he looked old and shrivelled, a man worn to the bone with fear, worry and guilt. Margot let out a cry when she saw him, broke away from Ben and rushed inside to meet him. Ben and Roth hung back outside to let the couple have a minute or two in private. It was an emotional scene as they clung tightly to one another, both of them weeping.
But it was no unmitigated moment of joy either. By the time Ben and Roth stepped into the lobby, Margot had started firing the inevitable questions. ‘Why is this happening, Julien? What have you got us involved in?’ Her husband stood there looking utterly helpless and defeated with his head hanging. He muttered, ‘I’m so ashamed.’
Margot stepped away from him and gripped Ben’s arm. ‘This is the police officer who rescued me, Inspector Jacques Dardenne. And this gentleman here is his colleague, Agent Anderson from America.’
Ben said, ‘Why don’t we go up to your room? There’s a lot we need to talk about.’
Segal’s poky single room was o
n the third floor and had a partial view of the docks in the distance, France’s largest container port covering a broad expanse of coastline, a million lights reflecting on the water. He had a chair pulled up to the window and a pair of binoculars on the sill, as though he’d been sitting for hours scanning the horizon for the arrival of the cargo ship. The bed was rumpled, though he didn’t look as if he’d been getting much sleep. He motioned to a coffee-maker on a sideboard and offered some to his visitors. It tasted like stewed compost, but both Ben and Roth had drunk a lot nastier brews when they were in the army.
Roth carried his cup over to the window and stood looking out through the binoculars. Ben sat the couple down on the rumpled single bed, and pulled a chair opposite them. ‘First things first. Margot, I have a confession to make. My name isn’t Jacques Dardenne, and neither I nor my friend here are police officers. If we were, your husband would be in handcuffs around now. As he knows very well. What matters here is that we are your friends. The only friends you’ve really got. So please listen carefully to what I’m about to say.’
Her outburst of surprise and consternation was understandable enough. Julien Segal clasped his wife’s hand and said, ‘Chérie, please, let him talk.’
Over the next five minutes, Ben told Segal everything that had happened since the moment of his chance encounter with Romy Juneau in the street: the visit to her apartment, the sighting of Nazim al-Kassar leaving the building and the discovery of the video footage on her phone. Tears returned to Segal’s eyes and his chin fell to his chest as Ben described finding her dead.
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